A Fork In The Road
by Michelleypie
Summary: Daniel Meade must say goodbye to the woman he loves, while his assistant is going in a much happier direction. What happens when two people who have always walked along the same path reach a fork in the road? Later Detty
1. Promises and Plans

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Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just playing :).

_This is my second attempt at an UB fanfic. My first, Skin Deep, was fun, but I can never continue a story when it becomes too AU given developments in a show. So here's another try..._

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"How do you feel about Betty? Your assistant."

Daniel Meade looked deeply into the eyes of his beloved, hardly believing that, at a time like this, she could ask such a question.

Perhaps he could blame her condition itself for a lapse in her judgment. Her health was deteriorating. He sat at her bedside for weeks now and watched as she went from the peppy, beautiful woman he knew, to the weak, struggling, sick patient she now was.

Her eyes were particularly striking. Months ago, you would attend to them, but not nearly as much. Daniel was often distracted by her silky blond hair, her slim frame and the peach color of her skin. Her hair was lost to chemotherapy treatments. Her frame was no longer slim and healthy, but skinny and frail. Her skin was paler and sadder than ever.

Her eyes stayed. They kept all of their intensity and then some.

Although Daniel had no idea why they would be looking at him that way in regard to Betty.

Betty's name had come completely out of left field. The last thing that Daniel wanted to do was give Molly the false impression that she had any reason to feel threatened. He would stay by her and his friendship with Betty wouldn't change that.

"Betty? Molly, I love _you_."

"I didn't ask if you loved me or not," Molly corrected, uttering each word with what appeared to be a struggle. "I know that you do. I'm just…I'm worried about you, Daniel."

Irony at its best.

_She_ was worried about _him_.

She was the one battling an illness that she knew would defeat her. She was the one who wouldn't get the chance to see what life would be like a year later, to hold one of her own children someday, to see another snowstorm or ocean, to go on another trip, or to live another healthy day. Why was she worried about him?

And what did this have to do with Betty?

"Molly," Daniel quietly said, taking her hand. "There's nothing to worry about. I told you, I will be right by your side until…" He swallowed, unable to bring himself to say what he so dreaded saying. "I'll be here."

"She's…I mean, Betty…she's your friend, right?"

"Betty? Yes, of course."

"And…she'll, you know, take care of you? When I…after I'm…"

He didn't want her to finish that sentence, either.

He didn't want her to be gone. As much as he knew that he would have to face it, he didn't want to. He liked to live in his more attractive, blissful state of delusion in which Molly would always need him to hold her hand. He didn't want to be the one who needed the comforting. That was his job.

"I'll be fine."

"You'll need someone," Molly said. "You can't do it alone. You'll need someone with you."

"I'm not going to be alone," Daniel assured her, rubbing her thin hand with his warmer, stronger thumb. "I have plenty of people I can turn to. Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it," Molly replied, managing to smile at him as her eyes began to shine with tears. "I know you have friends and your family. That's important. But it's not enough. You'll need…a person. A person you can talk to about anything."

"I'll talk to you," Daniel said softly, realizing but not quite caring about how silly that sounded. "You'll be able to hear me. I won't forget you, Molly. I'll still talk to you."

"You know that's not what I meant," Molly replied. "I mean…I'm sure I will, too, but you know I can't answer you back when…"

"Shh," Daniel said, not wanting to address the thought of Molly gone. He couldn't bear another word of it.

"Don't shhh me, you rich jerk," Molly teased, managing a giggle. Daniel had to smile back, in spite of the tears that were forming in his eyes as well. "I'm serious, Daniel. Can you talk to Betty? Do you talk to Betty about things?"

Funny.

Molly had never asked this question before, despite the fact that it was true. Daniel talked to Betty about everything. There wasn't a single thing he couldn't go to her with, and Molly had no idea. She wasn't even aware of how often he discussed her with Betty as well.

"Yes, Molly. Betty's my friend, like you said."

"Yes, yes, well, a lot of friends are the kinds of friends you go out with for drinks or you give a friendly hello to at work. Is Betty one of those, or is she a friend you can actually open up to?"

"I can open up to Betty, Molly. I mean, you've met her. Anybody can. She's that kind of person."

"Good," Molly replied, smiling. "Just promise me something, Daniel."

"Anything," he said, trying his best not to show her how upsetting the conversation had become.

"When I'm gone, please…talk to Betty. Talk to her when you're feeling alone. Don't just keep it inside of you. I've been through it before; I lost people and I never spoke to anybody about it, and it killed me."

He didn't know if he wanted to promise this.

Sure, Betty was an amazing friend. He knew that he could talk to her if he needed to. He knew that he could trust her to keep anything he told her in complete confidence.

And, yet, he couldn't imagine how it would make him feel.

The thought of losing Molly alone was so painful it nearly blinded him. That was just in theory; she was still with him. How would he feel when she left him and it was real? He couldn't go to Betty for advice as always and then put Betty's suggestions to good use. He'd have no second chances with Molly. She'd be gone. He'd realize that again and again after each time he spoke with her.

Besides…

"Why Betty?"

"I like her," Molly said softly. "She just seems…I just feel like talking to her would be good for you."

"Okay," Daniel replied. "Good enough for me. I promise. I'll talk to Betty."

"Thank you, Daniel." Molly said, looking, for a rare moment, content. "I love you." Daniel leaned forward and very lightly kissed Molly on the top of her head, where the softness of her hair used to be, and felt a tear drop from his eye onto the side of her satisfied face.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Betty's eyes blinked open, the sunlight from outside Matt's room slowly creeping its way into the place where the two were now lying.

Matt didn't seem to notice.

She looked over at him peacefully sleeping and had to smile. She never thought that the guy she was so reluctant to pair up with in the beginning of their time at YETI would bring her the sort of peaceful contentment that he had for the past two months.

For the past few weeks, they'd meet for drinks at what soon became referred to as "their bar". They'd sit and talk - just like they did on that first date - about movies, YETI, magazine ideas, their jobs - about everything. Then they'd go back to his apartment, which, thanks to his mother's generous contributions, was quite big, and enjoy some time alone.

It was so light, peaceful, carefree and fun, that Betty couldn't believe she was the same girl who had been through so many dramatic relationships in the past. This was the way things were supposed to be.

The light seemed to be hitting his eyes as well, for she saw them start to blink also.

"Morning," Betty greeted, leaning over to kiss him lightly on the nose.

"Hmm," Matt managed. Betty had to giggle to herself. Matt was a lot of wonderful things, but a morning person was not one of them.

"Oh, it's going to be one of _those_ Saturdays," Betty teased, rolling her eyes. Matt rolled over to the other side, mumbling something, as Betty leaned in closer to his back, and whispered in his ear.

"No. Matt, we are not going to waste an entire day just lying around until 3 like we've done for the past 3 weeks. You promised me. It's my turn to choose what we do today."

"It's Saturday," Matt muttered. "You're supposed to waste the entire day sleeping in until 3."

"That, Matt, is where you are wrong," Betty said, pulling the covers off of both of them. Matt glanced over at her, trying very hard to look angry but resisting as he saw her mischievous smile.

"That's it," he teased. "You're in trouble now." Before Betty could react, Matt took the sheets she had just pulled off, threw them over himself, and jumped on top of her, tickling her wildly.

"Matt!" Betty shouted. "Come ON you know I hate…"

"…Being tickled," Matt said, tickling her stomach even harder. "Just like I hate being woken up at 8 o'clock on a Saturday.

"It's…eight…twenty…one…" Betty managed in between laughs.

"Same thing," Matt argued.

"Okay…OKAY…Matt…we'll stay in…a little…longer…"

At that, Matt stopped. He eased his fingers off of her and slowly rested his weight on top of her. She grinned up at him, and, for a moment, he considered where he was.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?"

"Nope," Betty replied, taking his hand in hers and softly kissing it.

"Darn," Matt muttered. He softly removed her hair, which had gotten to be a bit disheveled from his attack, so that it was smoothed alongside her face, and bent in slowly to kiss her. She returned the kiss, placing her arms around him, the two of them still resting underneath the sheets. Matt's hands started to caress Betty when her phone suddenly rang.

"Ignore it," Matt whispered, kissing her along her collarbone.

"Wait, Matt, I can't," Betty said, pulling away from him against her body's wishes. "It's early on a Saturday; it must be important." At that, Matt let her grab her phone without further protest. For all of his teasing, she knew that he was completely understanding beneath it all.

Betty looked at the phone number.

Claire Meade.

What on Earth?

"Hello?" She answered.

"Betty it's Claire," came a shaky voice from the other end. "I know it's early but…well, Betty, Daniel really needs you now." Betty's heart sank to the floor; she had a feeling that she knew what this was about.

"What's wrong?" Betty asked, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't what she knew it was.

"Molly died this morning, Betty."


	2. Communication

Daniel was determined.

He would spend the day right here.

In his empty bedroom.

Alone.

His body seemed to agree. All he wanted to do was stay completely and utterly still. All he wanted to do was just feel gravity push down against him and not discuss it, cry about it or think about it.

He'd stay right there.

Betty would cover for him at work; she'd gone out of her way to help him with whatever he needed. He didn't have the energy or strength to outwardly thank her for it, but he knew that she realized how grateful he was. They understood each other that way.

She had been so great the entire week. After hearing about Molly, she hurried over to his apartment along with his mom, and the two of them stood by him as he went to her family and helped them with all of her arrangements. It felt completely funny; upon her dying moments, he and Molly were at the stage of their relationship where, ordinarily, he'd just be getting to know her parents. He'd invite them out for some awkward dinner where a lot of small talk would be made, and he'd go out of his way to prove that he truly was a respectable gentleman and wow them with how well he could treat their daughter.

They bypassed that whole point, and went straight to the stage of things in which they had to accept one another as family and plan a funeral together.

But they weren't his family.

He needed his real family with him - Claire, Alexis, who sadly was unable to attend, and, yes, Betty. She had become his family over the years, but in a very different and unusual way.

When Daniel needed a few minutes to be alone, Betty covered for him and told everyone that he was just taking a phone call from Alexis, who was checking in on him. When he needed an extra push to join the service and be there to pay his respects to Molly, Betty was the one nudging him. When he needed motivation to stand up and give her a eulogy, Betty was the one telling him he could do it.

She was more than family. She was keeping him up and going. She was the force that he needed to pull himself together.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do the one thing that Molly asked him for, which was to talk to her. It hurt too much.

One thing that didn't hurt was staying in his bed all day.

That's what he'd do.

Like clockwork, he heard the key to his lock turn, and he knew who it was. The only person he trusted with his key.

"Daniel! Daniel, it's me! My dad made you some food for this week so you don't have to…" She appeared in the doorway to his bedroom, and glanced at him in the way only she could get away with - disapproval. "Daniel, I figured that you'd be working from home. You're not even up yet? It's one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Tell your dad I said thanks," Daniel said, hoping that his futile efforts to avoid the subject would be, in some way, fruitful.

"Daniel, look," Betty said, walking closer to him and placing the trays in her arms above his nightstand. "I know you're hurting right now. That's understandable, but…"

"I'm fine, Betty. I just want to rest a little bit, that's all."

"I understand, Daniel. Trust me, I do," Betty said, taking a seat alongside him. "I felt the same exact way when I lost my mom. But you can't go on like this. You have to try to gather up enough strength to get yourself up. I mean…she wouldn't want to see you like this."

Betty was right.

That's probably why Molly wanted him to talk to her; she had this unbelievably irritating habit of being absolutely right about him most of the time.

Still, he wouldn't be foolish enough to tell her that.

"I'll be fine, Betty. I'll go in tomorrow. I just…I need one more day."

"Daniel…"

"Aren't you supposed to be at YETI?" Daniel asked, knowing that she couldn't weasel her way out of that one.

"That's not for another hour or so."

"Hmm. How's that going?"

"It's great," Betty replied cautiously, watching Daniel closely as if determining whether or not it was safe to answer a question that was asked to change the subject. "It's a lot of work lately. I mean, Matt and I have been spending hours on our project."

"Sure. Your project," Daniel teased. A part of him felt it insensitive to find amusement in pretty much anything, but another part longed for normalcy more than he could imagine, and watching Betty react to his occasional taunts was a safe haven for him. Betty gave him one of her looks, but still managed to smile.

"Very funny. It's true - we have. It's a lot of work."

"Must be very strenuous," Daniel continued. Betty gave him a light push and rolled her eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Seriously, Daniel, I know you don't really want to talk about Matt or YETI. It's just…"

_Please don't ask._

_If you ask, then I have to say no and disappoint Molly._

_Not that question…_

"If you want to talk to me about this, Daniel…I mean, cancer's affected the people I love, too. If anyone can understand, it's me."

_Crap._

_She had to put it that way._

_Okay, Molly, I love you, but I can't do this now. You have to understand._

"I know, Betty. I appreciate it. I'm just…I'd rather not talk about it."

Betty looked like a fish out of water, trying desperately to find some way to heal Daniel from his pain and he knew it. He understood how badly she wanted to make him feel better, and the fact that he knew she wouldn't be able to only made him want her to waste her efforts even less.

"Okay," Betty said. "But can you please at least eat something? You look like you haven't eaten all day."

"I will," Daniel replied, not budging from the spot where he lay.

"And you'll come in tomorrow? To Mode?"

"Yes," he said, not entirely sure if he was telling the truth.

"Good," Betty replied, flashing her innocent, metallic grin in his direction. Then, she did something she very rarely did and reached for his hand. For reasons he didn't entirely understand, it made him feel a great deal better and his heart beat a little more steadily for a second. "You don't have to do this alone, Daniel. I'm your friend. You know I'm here for you."

"I know," Daniel replied, squeezing her hand back. "Betty, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so cold it's just…I'm just really, really tired."

"Okay," Betty said, standing up. "I'll let you rest then. But this is the last day, Daniel."

"Alright!" Daniel groaned.

There went that smile again…

"Good! Okay, Daniel, enjoy the food. I'll see you tomorrow! Call me if you need anything."

"Okay. Bye," he said, and watched as she walked out the door.

Frustrated, he looked up towards the sky.

"Molly, of all the things you could have asked me for - you asked me to do the hardest thing? You knew how hard it would be to talk about this. Betty…I mean, you don't get it. You don't know Betty. She's all…sunshine and flowers and daisies and I can't talk to her about this because…I can't let her do it. I can't let her cheer me up. I don't want to be cheered up. I want you."

Daniel naively waited for a response, and found himself hurt when he heard precisely what he expected - nothing.

"Why'd you have to leave me, Molly?"

_________

Betty managed to finish her errands for Mode in time to arrive at YETI only a few minutes late. Matt watched her as she came in, looking worried as he had for the past few weeks.

Matt didn't have to say this outwardly, but he made it pretty clear how he felt. He felt Betty was biting off more than she could chew. He respected her loyalty, but felt that she was being taken advantage of by her boss. She could read between the lines; every time he asked if "she was sure" that she was going to stay up late to get a few things done, every time she called Daniel to check on him on their days out, every time she showed that she would go the extra mile for Daniel, it made him look somewhat concerned with her efforts.

"Hey," she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. He lightly smiled back, then excused himself for a minute to "use the bathroom".

As Jodie was gathering materials for a presentation, Betty turned across the table and saw an interested glance from Marc.

"Ohhh…the pinata has angered the beanpole."

"What are you talking about?" Betty whispered. "Matt's not mad at me."

"Sure he's not," Marc dryly replied. "He just had to go wash his hands to rinse away your _cooties_, that's all."

"Very funny. Look, people _do_ have to use the bathroom every now and then."

"I'm not just talking about his emo exit, Betty. When I got into class - by myself, may I add, because a certain someone's been lost in the clouds these days, he asked me where you were. Suspicious, much?"

"Curious, maybe. Suspicious, no."

"Okay, children, gossip hour is over," Jodie called from the front of the room. "We finally have this power point working, so let's move on to our next topic, which is on new ways to innovate layouts."

At that moment, Matt walked in.

Almost as though he timed it.

Class dragged on for what seemed like days. All Betty could do was glance over at Matt and try to gather from his disposition what he was angry about. Every so often, she'd turn back to Marc and watch him flash an "I Told You So" grin her way.

Finally, class had ended. Matt started gathering his things quickly until Betty took both of his hands in hers and looked at him directly in the eyes.

"I want to talk to you. Please." Matt nodded and the two walked out of the classroom and towards another empty room.

They stood in silence for a few seconds as Betty gathered up the nerve. Then it struck.

"Matt, talk to me. What's the matter with you? Why are you acting so angry at me?" Matt sighed, almost as though he was completely disappointed in himself, and looked away from her.

"I'm not angry at you, Betty."

"Then what is it? You've been really weird lately."

"I'm sorry, Betty, I don't mean to be a jerk, it's just that…well, I worry about you. You know - going out and doing all of this for Daniel on top of work and YETI…" Betty smiled at him, relieved that that was all, until s he realized that he didn't look finished yet.

"Matt, there's nothing to worry about. I'm fine. Look, Daniel's just going through something that I've gone through before myself…"

"Exactly. Why do you think I'm so worried?" Betty raised her eyebrows at him; what was he saying.

"I'm not following you."

"Don't you think Daniel - knowing you, knowing your family history, knowing how you've had to deal with this before - should choose not to, I don't know, put you in the middle of it so much?"

Wow.

He had it all wrong.

Flattered though she was at his concern, she had to clear this up.

"No, Matt, you don't get it. Daniel's not putting me in the middle of anything. I'm willing to help him."

"Nevertheless, you'd think the respectable thing to do would be to rely on someone else; his family, his friends, the people who know him on more of a personal level, rather than take advantage of his assistant."

Know him on more of a personal level?

Nobody knew him on as much of a personal level as Betty did.

Didn't Matt know that?

"Matt - I'm not just Daniel's assistant. I am his friend, and I do know him on a personal level." Matt looked down again, as if ashamed to meet her gaze while speaking his mind.

"Another reason I'm so worried."

"Excuse me?" Betty asked, starting to feel herself grow angrier as this conversation continued.

"Betty…you spend a lot of time taking care of your _boss_. I mean, I don't mean to discredit your friendship with him and I value how much you take care of everyone, but, well, when does it get to the point where you branch off?"

"Branch off?"

"Just…just hear me out, okay?" Betty nodded, wondering where on Earth this conversation could ever reach something she considered rational. "You're young, you're smart, you're talented; you have a lot going for you. I see you take so much of your valuable time and devote it to keeping yourself in the same position as Daniel's…muse."

"Muse?"

"Okay, maybe a poor choice of words, but do you see what I'm saying here? Betty, I really like you. I want to be with you for a really long time; you make me so happy. But lately I don't see how anything - your job, your talent, me - anything - is going to get past this post you've taken up as Daniel's lifelong assistant. He's a grown man, Betty. He's not your family, he's not your husband, he's not your boyfriend…why do you care so much?"

"He's my friend!" Betty argued, feeling steam rising from her head as she wished, beyond anything, that Matt could understand. "He's helped me in so many ways; helped my family in so many ways. I can't just abandon him when he needs it the most!"

"Nobody's saying you have to abandon him, Betty. I have no problem with you being Daniel's friend and spending some time with him. This is about priorities. The man is completely monopolizing your time and your life. Friends don't have to do that. It just makes me wonder…"

_Don't even say it…_

"What?"

"It makes me wonder if you really see Daniel as a friend. As _just _a friend."

"Oh, come on, Matt…"

"I mean it. Look, I'm sorry, I'm not usually this completely insecure, but, realistically speaking, you spend a lot of time on that man."

"That's just because we're close, Matt. That doesn't mean that I want anything more out of my relationship with him than what we have."

That seemed to make Matt feel a little better, so she continued.

"Matt, I've known Daniel for years. If I haven't expressed interest in him up to now, and he hasn't in me, what makes you think we're going to magically want to be together someday? Especially after I've found someone who I like so much." Matt looked at her apologetically, and placed both of his arms around her.

"Oh, man, Betty, I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot."

"Yes, you are, but it's okay," Betty teased. "I think you're kind of cute when you're jealous."

"Jealous…man, Betty, I don't get jealous like this usually. I don't know what's with me; it's just, I don't know, I'm cautious with this situation as it is when I think about what you've told me with your mother, and…"

"It's fine," Betty said. "I'm sorry I got so angry. Just…do me a favor, okay?"

"Yeah?" Matt asked, sounding a little nervous.

"Please don't ask me to change the relationships I have with my friends. Trust me. Know that I'm not going to go behind your back with secret feelings or anything."

"I think I can do that. If you'll do me a favor, too."

"Yeah?" Matt leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

"Stop driving me so damn crazy. I've never been this jealous of anybody before." Betty's smile grew wider and her eyes happier as she looked back at Matt.

"I can't make any promises on that one; sorry!"


	3. Ice Cream Healing

Exasperated beyond belief, Daniel felt himself collapse on his bed after his first week back at Mode.

He did it because he knew that Molly would have wanted him to. Every time he woke up feeling reluctance, he almost heard her voice inside his head telling him that he shouldn't ruin his life; that that isn't what she wanted. She'd tell him that Mode needed him, and that he didn't invest everything he had in this company just to lose it.

Then he'd argue with her, which was quite funny considering that she wasn't really there.

He'd tell her she was foolish; that the only investment he ever really cared about was his time and his emotion, and if he lost that, what was a series of zeros on a check, anyway?

But then her little accomplice, Betty, would call him up and he'd hear her perky voice telling him to get up and come to the office.

He had a feeling that Molly may have been haunting Betty in the same way she haunted him. The women's voices were so incredibly in tune that he saw no other explanation.

And, like Molly, he couldn't say no to Betty, no matter how much he cringed internally.

However, Molly must have been telling Betty to keep things simple at work; to let him do his job, not press him for his feelings, and just allow him to feel normalcy again.

It was normalcy.

In a manner of speaking.

It was normalcy when he was locked in his office getting phone calls made and tons of work done. It was normalcy when he was so swamped with tasks to do that he didn't have a moment's time to think about Molly. It was normalcy when Betty brought in his lunch and sat with him discussing completely unrelated topics like Hilda's salon, her father's new job or a summary of a movie she had seen a few weeks ago so that he kept his Molly thoughts hidden.

However, the trip from the car to the office was what killed him the most.

People would stare at him in _that_ way. A way he wasn't used to being stared at. In the past, he was just playboy Daniel Meade, and if bad things happened to him, well, he deserved them.

Now he'd gone and done it.

Now he'd gone and completely polished his once tarnished image.

Now he'd won their sympathies.

He was no longer Daniel Meade, the son of a rich guy who inherited everything and didn't deserve squat. He was no longer Daniel Meade, womanizing creep and frat boy at heart.

Now he was Daniel Meade - the brave soul who would sacrifice every penny that he had to save his company and give up his womanizing ways to watch the only person he ever truly loved become very sick and die.

They looked at him like that.

They were awkward, sympathetic looks. They'd gaze at him as though he were a child that just lost his puppy; they just looked at him as though to say, "We're sad right along with you, Daniel", although they couldn't possibly be. They didn't know a thing about him. They didn't know a thing about _Molly._ In fact, if she hadn't gotten sick, they would have just giggled at how Daniel Meade was dating some mousy little school teacher.

The only person in the entire world that seemed to get what he needed was Betty. He didn't know what he could do to thank her for it.

At that moment, a soft knock came from his door.

He could bet it was her again.

She'd stopped in periodically to keep him from thinking, yet again. She'd bring some ridiculous 1980s comedy or something equally asinine so that he could just lose some brain cells and forget about her.

He opened the door and - to no surprise - there she was again. Her smile was as bright as her pink, puffy coat, and she held a huge brown shopping bag in her arms.

"I come bearing ice cream!" she giddily said. Daniel tried his hardest not to smile, but he couldn't resist.

"Are you trying to put me into a diabetic coma? This is the third time this week." Betty rolled her eyes as she let herself in, still smiling.

"Please, Daniel, when you were a kid, didn't you have sweets all the time?"

"No."

"Oh," Betty softly replied, looking somewhat put out. "Really?"

"Yes, really. The nanny didn't want Alexis and I bouncing off the walls."

"Too bad," Betty replied, placing the bag on his nightstand. "Well, we're making up for it now. I have cookie dough."

"Fine," Daniel agreed, returning to his spot on the bed. "But no more after this week, please. I'll have to be at the gym for five hours."

"You're such a woman," Betty teased, taking out a plastic bowl and spoon from her bag and getting him a dish ready.

"Betty, I really appreciate this," Daniel said, watching her fill his bowl. "But you don't have to keep doing this. I know that you're just trying to make me feel better." Betty gave him the "bad liar" face he was so used to seeing at this point.

"Daniel, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come on, Betty, I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," Betty replied, passing him his dish and a spoon. "But, well, I don't think I'm doing anything so _differently_ than usual. I'm going to a friend's apartment and having ice cream. What's wrong with that?"

When she simplified it in that way, it didn't seem so bad.

"Nothing, I guess," he replied, taking a spoon of ice cream and eating it. Betty was right; there was something about its sweet flavor that brought him down to age 9 again and made him feel the slightest bit better.

"Good," Betty replied, taking ice cream for herself. "Besides, ice cream with a friend means ice cream for me. I mean, I hope you don't think that this is _all_ about _you_."

He couldn't hide his smile on that one. Betty was just so…_Betty_.

"My mistake," he said, taking another spoonful of ice cream. "So, that said, once you've had your ice cream, are you actually going to take a night for yourself for once?"

"If you must know, yes, I do have plans for later tonight, but they're not by myself."

For some reason, despite the feeling of sugar and cookie dough invading his taste buds, the prospect of Betty's plans clouded over Daniel's sugar rush. She'd be off with Matt, and they'd be surrounded by happy couples all over the world, and he'd spend the evening with an ice cream headache and Molly's ghost.

"We don't have to talk about that," Betty said, sensing his discomfort and eating her ice cream with heightened speed and concentration.

"Betty, what'd I tell you? I'm glad that you're happy with this Matt guy."

"I know, and I appreciate that, but…"

"Tell me about it," Daniel found himself saying, even though a large part of him disagreed. "I need to get back to our old routine, right?" Betty carefully shrugged and tried her best to conceal her smile. The same giddy smile that Daniel was sure was on his own face when he and Molly started seeing each other.

"He's just…he's great. He's uncomplicated, he's caring, he's funny…he's a good guy. After all of that Henry and Gio drama, it's nice to have that."

Uncomplicated.

Daniel doubted it.

He came to understand that Matt's mother was a prized, first class bitch who took one look at Betty and went into moody overdrive. The thought of anyone making Betty feel that she wasn't worth their son's time - even for a second - made Daniel furious.

But that wasn't Matt's fault, was it?

I mean, you'd think that Matt would completely alienate himself from his mother if she were so disgusting.

If Claire thought that way about Molly, Daniel'd have a few choice words for her.

But that was a completely different situation.

He had to stop projecting.

"Great," Daniel said, eating more ice cream. "I'm happy for you, Betty."

He was such a liar he couldn't stand himself.

"Well, I appreciate that, Daniel."

It became awkwardly silent as the two ate their ice cream for a minute and didn't pursue the conversation further. Daniel worried that Betty would, once again, fear talking to him about her life. He didn't want her to think that she couldn't be happy just because he was absolutely miserable.

He had to go on.

"So, then, what are your plans for tonight?"

Betty, try as she may, could not help turning red, and it was then that he knew every word out of her mouth was a complete fib.

"Well, we're just hanging out, you know. Renting a movie, probably."

Uh huh.

Daniel knew exactly what "renting a movie" probably meant.

"Well, good." Daniel replied, looking down at the bits of cookie dough still left in his dish.

"Yeah, it was some comedy that he wanted to see," Betty elaborated, trying her best to sound convincing. "It was the one with, you know, the guy who…"

Inwardly, Daniel couldn't help but laughing. Betty was so insanely bashful that she deserved the taunting she'd get.

"Wait, I think I know what you're talking about," Daniel teased. "It's the movie about the guy that has hot plans with his girlfriend, who is so shy about them that she lies and says that she's renting a movie." Betty gave him that glare of hers, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, Betty, I know what 'renting a movie' means."

"Well, how do you know we're not _actually _renting a movie?"

"Because your face looks very much like a tomato right now. I doubt Forrest Gump merits that kind of reaction. Unless you're renting a special _kind_ of movie." Betty playfully smacked Daniel in the arm, unable to hide her giggles.

"Daniel, stop it!"

"Come on, Betty, you know I'm only kidding."

And he was right.

He had to joke around when it came to Betty and…relationship issues. It was his only way of approaching them with her. Otherwise, it'd seem so tainted and real and…_un-Betty._

"Well I'm just _so glad_ that my personal life can cheer you up, Daniel."

"A-ha!" Daniel said, dropping his plastic spoon back in its bowl. "You _were_ here to cheer me up!"

"Ugh!" Betty groaned, getting up. "Alright, well, Daniel, you've caught me. On that note, I do have to get back to my plans, _but_…" she reached into the bag where the ice cream sat and pulled some DVDs, "…I've brought you a series of comedy specials, which I think go great with the rest of this carton of ice cream."

"I appreciate it, Betty," Daniel said, feeling a flicker of disappointment at the prospect that she was leaving so soon. As much as Daniel mocked her efforts, she truly was the only person that managed to cheer him up.

Which is why he _still_ couldn't talk to her. Not about Molly. Not yet.

"No problem. That's what friends are for, right?" Betty asked. Then, she looked down at him with such a sweet, sincere smile that Daniel felt it was finally appropriate to show her some gratitude.

He placed his bowl down and quickly placed his arms tightly around Betty, resisting the urge to let his bottled emotion flow out of him.

"Thank you," he said, feeling Betty hug him back.

"You're welcome," she replied.

And though it was just a hug of friendship and gratitude, Daniel found that he couldn't let go. Hugging Betty was one of those things that always accompanied his most redeeming moments; moments where he - playboy Daniel Meade - possessed the ability to make a girl like Betty giddy, or moments when she opened up to him and allowed him to bring her that level of comfort. Molly was the only other person who allowed Daniel to be that guy; to be the hugger or huggee, the comforter or the comfortee. He needed to feel that warmth again; that feeling that he can be close to the only living person left who completely and utterly understood, accepted, and appreciated him.

She knew that, too. She didn't let go. She waited for him to do it first.

And after what was probably a few moments, he did.

She smiled at him, the comfort she brought him unspoken but completely understood, while her comprehension of him, also unspoken, was communicated clearly without words.

"Watch the movies, Daniel. They're really funny."

"I will," Daniel replied. Betty gave a wordless goodbye, smiled at him, and let herself out.

As the door shut, one lone tear drop that begged to escape during his hug with her took a slow journey down Daniel's cheek.

* * *

The next day, as Betty was on her way to meet with Jodie from YETI for a progress meeting, she couldn't help thinking of the day before.

She'd never seen Daniel grieve in the way that he did yesterday, and, the fact was, he didn't even realize he was grieving. He didn't even know how much he said to her without speaking at all.

She wished she could just come forward with him and tell him that it's okay to be sad; that she felt the same way, too, and that she still thinks of her mother and gets upset. However, another part of her simply did not want to see Daniel sad. It hurt too much. His tight hug and the clenching of his chest as he held back his tears was absolutely heartbreaking. She just wished he would cry and let her be there for him.

Then she felt badly, because her concern was clouded over in her face and in her mind throughout the entire evening with Matt. He was so sweet; he had decorated his apartment with candles and roses, set up the entire scene and gone completely out of his way to make her happy, particularly when he knew how preoccupied she was all week. His jealousy over Daniel seemed to have faded, but his concern over whether or not this situation was reminding Betty of losing her mother still lingered.

She wished she could make Matt understand that everything reminded her of her mother - not just watching a friend lose somebody. In fact, if he wanted to show concern at the appropriate time, it should be when they walk through department stores and she caught a whiff of a perfume her mother loved, or when the weather warmed enough for Betty to step in leftover snow and remember her mother talk about how she was _sure_ that Spring had a smell.

The issue that Matt didn't seem to get was that this wasn't about her at all; this was about her imagining that Daniel could feel the way she felt.

This happened before a bit with Daniel's father. However, the connection wasn't nearly as strong. His father's death was tragic and sudden. Meanwhile, both Betty's mother and Molly suffered and deteriorated, and that's the kind of experience that stings a person for life.

Despite her faraway stance, Matt did a very nice job of relaxing her. The best thing about their relationship was the way he could be that way - so kind, so thoughtful, so imaginative and sweet…

…and honest.

As much as Matt's jealousy over Daniel irritated her, she was glad that he was able to open up to her about it. He wasn't like Henry, who would threaten another guy behind her back and punch him without her knowing it. He discussed it with her first. That was brave and honorable, and completely mature.

And she wouldn't let him down.

She'd be a friend to Daniel - let him grieve, let him open up to her - but she would not make Matt feel ignored or overlooked. She would show him as much affection as he showed her and make him feel just as special.

He really did make her feel beautiful…

* * *

"You're beautiful, Betty Suarez. The only problem is that you think this may be a detriment, so you make yourself appear….like that."

Betty glared at Jodie in complete and utter disbelief.

_This_ was professional advice?

_This_ was part of her progress report?

What kind of a program was this?

"I'm sorry…I don't understand."

"Oh, I think you do," Jodie continued, grinning coyly as though she had the answers to everything. "Betty, let me ask you a question - what makes you different from your competition at Mode, or, for that matter, in the magazine industry?"

What made her different…

"Well…"

What _did_ make her different?

"I…I feel I have a strong sense of values. I don't let diminishing morality in the industry change my stance on family or my voice as a writer."

"Interesting," Jodie said. "Go on."

What else?

"I also feel I'm a really persistent person. I don't give in when I'm told I can't do something. I really work at it. And, well, I've been told that I relate well to people, and that's helped me to get a lot of interviews, jobs and opportunities that others may not."

There was silence as it appeared that Jodie was thinking about what to say, and then turned to Betty.

"Betty, you're in an industry where people are brutally honest with you, so I'm going to be brutally honest. When I was your age, I had a lot of things in common with you. I was talented. I was, as you say, persistent. I had a passion and I wanted it badly. I see that in you. However, I had an editor that told me something that changed the way I thought. He said, 'Jode, if you want to be taken seriously in this business, know what stands out and tone it down'. Then he gave me a card for someone who could give me speech lessons and the name of a good hair gel, and I was offended, but I took his advice. Why? Because I didn't want to be known as the girl with the annoying voice or the frizzy hair - I wanted people to pay attention to my talents. By overlooking things I thought were superficial, I was ironically causing people to have a more superficial stance on me than before."

"Okay," Betty replied. "So you're saying…"

"Betty, I think that you know and I know what people pay attention to the first time they see you."

She did, but she didn't want to admit it.

"What?"

"You make _yourself_ stand out. These patterns and colors and…bangs. The braces you can't really help, but, truly, Betty, as a professional in this field, I have to be honest by saying that they communicate a message. They show that you identify yourself with an image that's so unique and different that you do not _want_ to be a part of the larger world or industry. You're trying to transcend it."

"But…" Betty bit her lip in an attempt to stop her tears from falling. This was her hero - her idol in the print world - telling her to conform just like everyone else. "With all due respect, I don't feel that way at all. This is just…it's the way that I dress. Aren't there things that are more important than what a person looks like?"

"Yes. Which is why it shouldn't be so problematic for you to let go of your pride, pick a solid color and go with it. It's a subtle change, Betty. Nobody's asking you to abandon your values or your world beliefs. For that matter, nobody's asking you to become a fashion model. I just think it would be to your benefit in this industry to start taking cues from the people around you and dress a little more professionally. Appearance is important."

Betty looked down, again trying hard not to break down in front of Jodie. Not even Jodie - who she identified with in so many ways - sympathized with her.

"Betty, you have a lot of promise," Jodie continued. "I see you as a shining star in this industry. The only problem is, you're confining yourself with your attitude. You won't let go of certain preconceived notions. You think changing your wardrobe is demeaning. You think sports and fashion are beneath you. You think making changes to yourself are selling out. They're not, Betty. It's compromise. You can help the magazine industry understand your viewpoints and see things more from a family-oriented, wholesome perspective, but nobody listens to a person who judges and rejects them. You should understand that. You and I, Betty Suarez, we're from the same mold. We think we're the ones being bullied and picked on when, in truth, we're the ones alienating everyone else."

"So…okay," Betty replied, her voice getting a little shaky, "What do you suggest that I do?"

"Well, for starters, I suggest that you find someone you can trust to give you some advice on how to make subtle changes to your professional attire. When you're at home, you can go to town choosing whichever clothes you'd like, but if you want to be an editor, you're going to have to make some different choices. Then I suggest that every time you hear that voice in your head telling you that one magazine topic or another is beneath you, remember one thing - this is your job. This is another golden opportunity for you to take something with which you've never identified and make it relatable to the masses. Your perspective can't be that way unless you allow yourself to relate to the masses, both on the outside and on the inside"

Betty swallowed a lump in her throat, feeling more lost, alienated and humiliated than she'd felt in a while. She'd never heard this advice from anyone before. Daniel always thought the world of her just the way that she was. She'd managed to get the attention of Matt, who she valued beyond anything. Could this just be the bitter advice of a woman who sacrificed herself for her company?

Nevertheless, she'd have to consider it. This was her future.

"Okay," Betty replied. "I'll…I'll look into it. I'll find someone who can help me."

"Good," Jodie said a little more softly. "Betty, look at me for a minute."

Betty glanced into Jodie's face, which looked strong and hard as always, but also managed to look, for the first time, sympathetic.

"I stand by what I said when I started this meeting, Betty. You are a beautiful person, inside and out. The only thing is, you seem afraid to show it. You hide it underneath layers and colors and patterns. Set it free. There's nothing wrong with conforming just a little bit. It doesn't make you a sell out, and it certainly does not take an ounce away from your character."

Betty nodded.

More than anything, she wanted to run out of this room, visit Daniel's apartment, finish his ice cream and hug him again. He'd tell her that Jodie was a complete idiot; that she was just on a menopausal mood swing.

Or Matt. He'd tell her he liked her just the way she was and that she'd be absolutely foolish to listen to Jodie…

* * *

"Really? Jodie said that?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?" Betty said, taking a long sip of her apple martini as she vented to Matt at their bar. "I mean, of all the things she could have talked about, she talked about my _clothes_? And this is supposed to be a professional?"

"Well, I mean, the way she said it, it doesn't seem so bad." Betty dropped her martini down with a clank.

"What do you mean, it doesn't seem so bad?" Betty asked. "Matt, she was a few words away from telling me I'm a hideous _dog_ and that if I don't make myself _pretty_ I'll never get a job!"

"Betty, just calm down. First of all, it doesn't sound to me like she was calling you hideous at all. In fact, didn't you say she called you beautiful?"

"Yeah," Betty bitterly replied, taking another long sip. "That's what everyone tells the ugly girl right before they say, 'No, really, I was kidding - you're ugly'."

"Alright, alright, I understand why you're upset, but just take what she was saying into consideration. She's a professional; she's been through this before. Maybe she doesn't think you're ugly. In fact, I know she doesn't think you're ugly, because you're just too cute to be ugly."

"Matt," Betty said, feeling herself smile in spite of herself. "Flattery will get you nowhere here."

"It's not flattery, Betty, it's true. You _are_ cute. It's not a matter of being pretty or not, it's a matter of appropriate dress, that's all."

"_You_ don't think I dress appropriately?"

"Well, Betty, for what we do, I don't have a dress code. In fact," he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "For lots of what we do, we don't have _dress_. Period."

"Stop," Betty said, feeling herself blush. "Matt, seriously, though, if you ran a magazine, would you think I dressed inappropriately?"

"Betty, you know that I can't answer that question because my view of you is completely biased. That's totally unfair."

"Seriously, Matt. Hypothetically, let's say that you were a magazine editor, you saw me and you had no romantic interest in me at all. Would you hire me?"

Matt placed down his beer, gave Betty a serious look.

"I'm not answering these questions, Betty, because I see it as impossible - not even hypothetical - that I could see you and have no romantic interest at all. But I will tell you as objectively as I can that maybe _other_ people see that you dress differently and think of it as exactly what Jodie said - explicit nonconformity. They don't see it as ugliness, but they see it as a desire to stand out."

"That's not what it is!" Betty insisted, feeling her eyes start to get wet.

"Betty, I know that. You know that. But we're in a competitive industry with people who take their jobs very seriously and I guess that Jodie's point was that they may _not_ see that. I mean, we're starting off here. Once your foot is in the door, that world is your oyster, but we have to make sacrifices as the low man on the totem pole, you know what I'm saying?"

Betty glanced at him, not sure whether she should be angry, hurt or just plain confused. She'd felt confident in herself for years; confident enough to ignore catty comments and unsolicited advice from everyone. How could she have been wrong about that the whole time?

Yet, all that her extreme confidence had gotten her was year after year of being Daniel Meade's assistant and relationships that ended before they started.

Here she had two real opportunities - she had YETI and a man who seemed to truly care for her - both telling her that this confidence may be unfounded, at least in regard to her dress.

She couldn't help but wondering if she should listen to them, or slam her martini down and run to Daniel's apartment to see if he needed any papers to be filed. He wouldn't ask her to buy a new wardrobe for that.

But something in Matt's honesty and sincerity stopped her from doing that.

"You know that _I_ like you just the way you are, right?" Matt said.

"Great. Can I be the editor-in-chief of your pretend magazine?" Betty asked, sipping her martini.

"Seriously, Betty," Matt said, taking her hand away from her drink and holding it. "This is business. As a couple involved in the same career path, I want to feel that I can tell you the truth work-wise without you thinking that I feel differently about you as my girlfriend."

"No, no, I know," Betty said, feeling a tear fall from her face. Matt lifted up his hand and wiped it away.

"Wipe that sad face off, Suarez," he said with a smile. "Jodie wouldn't have given you this advice if she didn't think you were such a promising asset to the field. She wants you to succeed. So do I."

He was right.

It killed Betty to admit it, but he was absolutely, entirely and completely right.

She had to do this - let go of her pride and show the media industry that she was flexible and willing to change. She had to win Matt's respect - not just as a girlfriend, but as a person overall and a colleague in his field.

"You're right," Betty admitted. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I shouldn't be so…sensitive, but…"

"You're human," Matt said. "Although sometimes with the responsibility that you take on, I think you're more of a superhuman type."

"Matt, c'mon…"

"Seriously, Betty, despite what you may feel about yourself after this meeting, you're just so wonderful and kind and…just really a beautiful person…"

"On the inside…"

"Overall," Matt corrected. "Cut that out. No pity parties. I won't have the girl I'm falling in love with feeling so sad."

Suddenly, the thoughts of her wardrobe and self-pity and everything else vanished.

Did he just say what she thought he said?

"The girl you're…"

"I'm falling in love with you," Matt said, smiling sincerely at her. "There, I said it. Man, that feels better. I've been trying to find the right time to tell you that for days…"

"You've been in love with me for _days_?" Betty asked, sort of taken. She wasn't sure if she was in love with Matt yet, and she didn't want to tell him she was out of sheer obligation.

"Weeks, actually," Matt continued. "And, you know what, there's no pressure. You don't have to be in love with me back, but as long as we're being totally open, that's how I feel."

Glancing at Matt's face, considering his sweetness and sincerity, Betty couldn't help but feel for a moment that maybe she was falling in love with him, too. But that may have just been the heat of the moment, so she took his hand and smiled.

"Matt, I'm so happy you feel that way. I just…I mean, I really like you a lot, and I really enjoy the time we spend together, but I just want to be careful about…"

"It's okay," Matt said, still smiling. "As long as I haven't freaked you out."

"No, no!" Betty said, feeling guilty he'd even consider that. "Matt, I'm so glad you feel that way. I'm really, really lucky to have you."

"Good," Matt said, leaning in to give her a kiss. She kissed him back, then looked at her martini and back at him.

"What do you say we leave our drinks here and get back to one of those…non-dress code activities."

"Thought you'd never ask."


	4. Changes

_Hey everyone – after a LONG hiatus, I've decided to pick this one up. I made a few attempts, but the plotlines this season have come and go so quickly that none were successful. I thought I'd pick this up and continue my fic in the way that I would personally like to see this series end, and since I'm fairly sure (like 99.9% certain) it WON'T happen this way, I'd like to put the fic out there and at least pretend. To stop this from being AU, I've put in a HUGE lapse of time and I hope that it works._

_

* * *

  
_

Six Months Later

Time had passed. Things had changed. One thing, however, stayed the same – Daniel never kept him promise to Molly and spoke to Betty.

He didn't speak to Betty when he felt desperate, turned to a cult and started feeling as though he could get her back. He did for a moment – and accidentally kissed her – but he didn't speak to her.

He didn't speak to Betty when Matt left her, then they got back together, then he left her. Again. Was there anyone in the world that _didn't_ break Betty's heart?

He didn't speak to Betty when he started to lose bits and pieces of Molly as his responsibilities grew and he focused more on sticking it to Wilhelmina than he did to thinking about how much he missed Molly.

By all formalities, Molly was gone. Her innocence was gone. Her sweetness was gone. The love of life that Daniel once felt with her beside him was gone. Nothing could bring it back – not even Betty. Molly was wrong about that.

Worse still, Molly's presence wasn't the only thing that was changing. Betty was too.

She was an editor now. She spent time in an office doing things that directly affected Daniel only every so often. He'd get visits from her every now and then, and, technically, they were friends, but it wasn't the way it used to be. She wasn't his assistant. She didn't need him the same way she used to. She was slowly, gradually turning into another employee. Even more unsettling, she was turning into another employee that was starting to intimidate Daniel.

She was being more widely recognized for her ideas. Her fashion sense was certainly improving. Daniel always saw Betty as his assistant and never particularly noticed if she looked nice, but there were a few days when she put an outfit together that wasn't entirely crazy. Even Daniel couldn't help but notice.

Besides, she had other things going on in her life. Daniel used to be there too – he used to have the prospect of work and then the prospect of dating, women, socializing and the like. He had no hobbies to go home to. He had no wife to go home to. He had no friends to spend time with. It was work, home, work home – that was it.

Betty may not have had a boyfriend anymore, but she had the rush of a new apartment. She had the new found closeness of Marc and Amanda, no matter how bizarre that friendship was. She had her blog or whatever it was. She had things going on.

Daniel had nothing.

Still, because she was Betty, she managed to find time to come in and see him and they would talk about their week. This was particularly appreciated lately, when he was starting to realize how old he was actually getting. Not truly old, but old enough for models to check out people like that Tyler character instead of him, whoever that guy was. Daniel had hoped that he'd be there for a minute and disappear; no such luck. He was a valued model now.

Great.

Which is precisely what Daniel attempted to talk to Betty about. Not Molly. Not what he promised he would talk to her about. This Tyler guy.

"Daniel, I don't even know what the big deal is," Betty told him one day as they got lunch out of the office, prodding her fork into her salad carelessly. Since when did Betty eat salad? "He's a model; there are tons of models around work and they've never bothered you before."

"I've never had to compete with them before," Daniel complained, wondering why on Earth Betty just couldn't get what was plaguing him. "I've always been the one that the women went to first; now it's all…Tyler this and Tyler that…"

"Daniel," Betty said, giving him that disapproving look she was famous for. "Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little bit? I mean, come on, at the end of the day, he's some model and _you're_ Daniel Meade. Who seems more important to you?"

There she went.

As usual, Betty had this annoying habit of making everything sound perfectly okay.

"Well, that's at the end of the day. What about _during_ the day when people are awake and noticing other people?"

"You're still more important," Betty insisted, although it looked like she was trying to hide a smirk. "And even if some people don't give you as much attention, who cares? What difference does it make if some models are into you? I thought you were past all that."

So did he.

Again, as it happened every so often, Daniel thought of Molly, her face faded in the background appearing to him clearly and telling him to listen to Betty. She liked Betty. Betty knew what she was talking about.

"You're right. It doesn't."

"Exactly! Now be happy with me – this week's very important."

Daniel couldn't help but laugh; Betty had only mentioned this four thousand times.

"I know, I know – the braces…"

"Oh, Daniel, you're killing me!" Betty argued. "You're talking about it like it's no big deal. Seriously – I can have tootsie rolls again!"

"Sure. And you'll get those braces back in about three months."

"Bite your tongue," Betty retorted, but she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. "It's just…oh, man, Daniel, you don't know what a relief it is! For _years_ I've been the girl with the braces, and I've had to have every person comment on them or ask when on Earth they were coming off and they _are! _They finally _are!"_

Excitedly, Betty lifted her hand for a high five and Daniel couldn't help complying. He missed Betty's high fives. They came on fewer and fewer occasions these days.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to look great," Daniel told her, and he meant it. Betty, however, didn't seem to want it to end there.

"Well, that, and I won't worry about things stuck in my teeth, I can smile without worrying about the metal, I can stop scratching my gums…"

"Okay, Betty, okay!" Daniel said. "I get it – you're happy."

"Well, aren't you a killjoy today?" Betty asked, looking a bit put out. The last thing that Daniel hoped to do was to end her excitement, so he reached over and patted her shoulder. She looked the slightest bit happier.

"I'm sorry. I'm just stressed about this Tyler thing and I'm letting it get to me. How about this – you get them off on Wednesday, right? We'll go for lunch Thursday and I'll pick you up a pack of Oreos to have afterwards; you've been talking about them for years. My treat." Betty looked a little guilty; he hated that look.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, I can't. I…kind of told Marc and Amanda I was getting them off and they said they'd take me to lunch that day."

Marc and Amanda?

Taking Betty to lunch?

Voluntarily?

"What?"

"I know," Betty said, giggling. "Of course, they didn't say it like _that_; they tried to make it sound as if it was for _them_ because they won't have to look at my braces anymore, but, still, as far as they go, that invitation was practically sweet."

And that was what Betty chose over him? Two people who made fun of her the entire time they were at Mode? Why would she want to celebrate with them before she celebrated with him?

"Well, okay…that's…fine, I guess. What about Friday? We have a lunch meeting but maybe we could do dinner."

"Dinner on Friday's perfect," Betty said with a little too much enthusiasm. He could tell she felt guilty about blowing him off (if that's what she considered it), but he still felt a lump in his throat.

First he lost Molly. Then he lost his pride. Now he was losing Betty. Slowly but surely, losing Betty. Forget discussing Molly with her – he couldn't even discuss anything with her.

"Great," Daniel said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "Come on, we'd better get back to the office. I'll get the check."

"This one's on me!" Betty insisted. She flashed him that metallic grin he knew he'd miss as soon as the braces were off. A piece of him didn't want to see them go. "I've wanted to say that for years." Daniel couldn't help smiling back.

"Okay, Miss Hot Shot Editor. It's all yours."

* * *

That Wednesday, Betty could not stop looking in the mirror.

She felt as though an entire row of teeth had been removed and she now had room in her mouth that was never there before.

And the white – the WHITE!

Her teeth were white. They weren't a mess of metal; they were pearly, sparkling white.

The first place she had to go to show off her new smile was her house. Everyone was thrilled, especially Hilda, who said that she'd be good business for the salon with a smile like that (despite how self-serving a comment that was, Betty couldn't help but be flattered). Papi went out of his way to make a caramel flan, but Betty reminded him that her teeth were still a little sore for sweets.

It was a perfect day so far, and it only got better as the doorbell rang.

Betty opened to door to a stocky yet sweet looking fire fighter who was standing outside, his truck a few feet away in the street.

Did Hilda hire a stripper for the occasion?

"Hi, um, do you live here?"

"Yeah," was Betty'd gut reaction, but then she shook her head. "I mean, no. Well, I mean, kind of…my parents…I mean, that is to say…" She caught him smiling and she had to smile back.

"Okay, sorry to confuse you," he said with a bit of a smile. "Is there someone around who does live here?"

"No, no, it's okay, my father and sister live here. I'm here all the time." He smiled at her again.

"That's good to hear."

Crap.

It had only been a few hours and already she was getting attention from the opposite sex.

Sweet.

"So, um, I'm sorry, I don't know your…"

"Jimmy," he replied, extending a hand to hold out. Betty shook it, feeling how warm and rough it was in hers.

"Hi, Jimmy. So…did you just come here to introduce yourself, or what?"

"No, no, oh man, sorry," Jimmy said, removing his hand from hers (much to her dismay) and laughing a bit before pulling something out of his pocket. It was what looked like an outlet. "I was here for the fire a few weeks ago; one of my guys checked out the outlet here to make sure it was safe; doesn't look tampered with, but I don't know if you should have an electrician come and check it out. There could be a problem with the wiring."

Tampered with?

Who thought the wires were tampered with?

"Well, thank you Jimmy. We'll look into that."

"Wait, wait, that's not fair," Jimmy said, giving her that flirty smile again. "I've told you my name and you haven't told me yours, but judging from that B, I'd say it's…Becky?"

"Nope, it's…"

"No, no, let me guess," he insisted. Although slightly pushy, Betty was still so happy about her braces she didn't let it bother her. "Bea?"

"Nope."

"B…B…Beth?"

"Uh-uh."

"Bethany?"

"Betty."

"Oh, man, I told you not to tell me!" Jimmy insisted.

"Sorry, Jimmy, you're just…not a very good guesser."

"Okay, granted. So, Betty. Is there a last name that goes with that?"

"Suarez."

"Oh, right!" Jimmy said, giving the same doofy laugh he gave before. "The Suarez house. I forgot."

"Look," Betty said, flattered by his flirting but starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. "I don't mean to be rude, but aren't you kind of busy or…"

"Yes, but not before you say yes."

Betty gazed at him completely confused; what was the question?

"What?"

"Well, I was hoping that if I asked you to dinner on Friday night that you'd say yes. I mean, I know it's not standard firefighter/civilian protocol, but I thought, since you didn't let me guess, you'd at least let me take you out."

Wow.

A date.

With a total stranger.

Betty hadn't been on one of those in…no, wait. She'd _never_ been on one of those.

"Oh, well, Jimmy, I don't know."

"Aw, come on. I put the fire in your house out. I promise it'll be a good time. Trust me."

Then again, what did she have to lose?

He was charming – indisputably so. A bit odd and annoying, but maybe he was just nervous?

Still, the idea of a spontaneous, new date could put matters into perspective. It would be a new experience, and each new experience added to her life. Each addition to her life was an addition to her growth, her career – everything.

She was no longer safe, little-girl Betty. She was a grown woman who would take risks.

"Sure. Okay, I'll go."

"Great. You have a pen? We'll swap numbers." Betty smiled and nodded and turned inside the house, where Papi, Hilda and Justin were all gazing at her. Papi looked disapproving and worried, while Hilda and Justin looked both shocked and impressed.

"Who _is_ that guy?" Papi insisted.

"Do you have a date with a total stranger? A fireman, no less?" Hilda asked.

"That is so hot, A.B.," Justin cut in.

"Guys, guys, it's no big deal; it'll just be dinner."

"It had better be," Papi muttered, but Betty ignored him to grab a pen. After they had exchanged numbers, Jimmy gave her one last smile.

"So you're in Manhattan? Perfect – I know a few great places by there."

"Great," Betty said. Then, in a very forward motion, Jimmy took her hand again and gave it a little squeeze.

"I'll see you tomorrow Betty Suarez."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow," Betty said.

Despite her looks from Hilda and Justin and her questioning from Papi, despite the noise that came from the argument that persisted afterward between Hilda and Papi about whether or not the outlet had been tampered with, Betty couldn't focus on anything.

It was a new dawn, a new day, a new life.

She couldn't wait to tell someone…someone who would understand.

Daniel.

He was always supportive of every new move she made.

Wait a minute…

Daniel!

She told him that they would have dinner on Friday!

She already blew him off for Thursday, and now she'd have to postpone for Friday as well?

Oh well. He'd understand. They'd make it up the next week.

Or so she hoped.


End file.
